


The Setting Sun

by abstract_moth



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mercenaries, Mutual Pining, POV Roy Mustang, Pining, Romance, no beta we die like my heart did when fma ended, really a mercenary au but it's pretty much the same thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstract_moth/pseuds/abstract_moth
Summary: After a seemingly impossible mission, Captain Roy Mustang is determined to return to his ship, rowing through the vast open sea despite his injuries. Luckily for him, Riza is there to nurse him back to health.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	The Setting Sun

Mustang's hand was bleeding again, but that was the least of his concerns. He gripped the oars tighter, wincing as the sea water stung against his wound. His body screamed in protest, but still he rowed forward. Repeating the motion over and over, slowly bringing the dory farther and farther out into the open sea.

The remaining five members of his team were watching him intently. They were all fairly new recruits and as such had been complaining the entire mission. To their credit, the mission was nothing short of perilous. The raid on the enemy fortress was incredibly daring and even though they had managed to pull that off, the promise of danger still loomed around them. The sun was setting quickly, plunging them into darkness. The water buckled and stirred beneath the wooden planks, reminding them of just how defenseless they were. They were out in the open sea and anything, sea serpents, enemy vessels, or a sudden storm, could finish them off.

Mustang let them complain. They had all gone above and beyond for this mission. In fact, their grumbling had ceased about two miles back. Now they were silent, watching as their captain continued to row long after the rest of them had given up. Their eyes, once gloomy and exhausted, were now starting to fill with admiration.

Mustang resisted the urge to smile. He kept his expression stoic and calm, not uttering a sound, even as blood dripped down his arm and his shoulder burned in pain. He was their captain. He didn't have the luxury of giving up.

"Captain," one of the men said. "I see lights in the distance."

Around them, the men raised their heads, hopeful, but hesitant. One of them picked up a scope and held it to his eye.

"It appears to be a ship, but it's too dark to make out any distinguishing marks."

Mustang took a breath. Either that was his ship coming to retrieve them or an enemy vessel coming to finish them off.

Only one way to know.

"Hand me a lantern," he said.

An oil lamp was lit and passed. He raised it up high, casting the light over the waters, opening and closing the shutter.

Long blink. Long blink. Pause. Short blink.

The men leaned forward, watching with silent anticipation.

Across the water, on the far away ship, a similar light was raised.

Long blink. Short blink. Long blink.

The men on the dory hooted and began to cheer. Their ship had come for them.

Mustang took a moment to allow relief to wash over him, before grasping the oars once again. Cringing, he continued to row towards his ship. As they drew closer, he stopped to gaze. _The Morella_ was once a merchant ship. Now it housed the most elite mercenaries in the Southern Sea. A sense of pride gripped the captain as he viewed its majestic hull.

His crew came from everywhere. Found beneath broken bridges and hidden among shadows. Lost souls with no hope and no future. As a captain, he demanded nothing but their loyalty. Something they continued to prove time and time again.

On deck, he was greeted by his second mate, Jean Havoc.

"Captain," he said. "How was the mission?"

"Successful. We managed to destroy the enemies archives and collect key information on their warships."

The man smiled. "Then tonight we will drink to your success. Until then," he said, turning to face the other members of the mission. "You're excused from your duties for the night. Go get some rest."

The men sighed with relief and they walked off towards the med bay. Mustang watched them leave. He knew that with his present injuries he should also head for the med bay or at least go to his quarters to rest.

Instead, Mustang stepped towards the bridge.

"What's the status of my ship?"

"Engines are running smoothly, winds are strong, and the crew would be more than delighted to hear that the mission was a success."

They entered the bridge.

"Captain," the crew greeted. Their prying eyes rested on him, analyzing every detail. He didn't comment on their stares. After all he demanded their loyalty, not their manners.

He figured he must look disheveled anyway. His hair was probably a mess, his heavy cloak was torn and soaked with sea water, but his back was straight and his gaze was as determined as ever.

He was their Captain after all.

Despite this, he couldn't help but feel disheartened that one person has yet to give him her attention.

His first mate, Riza Hawkeye, was busy pooling over some papers on the center table. Her back was facing towards him and she made no intention to acknowledge his presence.

He ignored this, or at least pretended to, and stepped out onto the bridge.

"Have you contacted the navy?" he asked.

Fuery, their communications expert, turned back to the radio.

"We received a transmission about half an hour ago," he said. "They want us to rendezvous with a scout ship off the coast of Donbachi. There we will receive our payment."

The helmsman looked up. "At our current heading, we should arrive there shortly after dawn."

"Very well." Mustang nodded. "Any other updates?"

"We received a report from the Aerugonian Navy," Breda said, handing him the paper. "Apparently they want to commission us to hunt down some fugitives that stole a fishing boat."

Mustang read the report.

"A bounty of 10,000 gold pieces," he whistled. "Guess we'll look into it after we reach Donbachi."

"Some of our supplies are running low," Havoc said. "Notably firewood and salted meat."

"We can replenish those supplies in Donbachi as well," Falman said.

"We better," Breda said. "I don't want to be living off of raw fish."

The crew chuckled.

Mustang smiled as well.

"Any other updates before I turn in?" he asked.

"Captain," his first mate said, finally turning towards him. Her eyes scanned him once. "A coded message came for you while you were gone." She gave nothing away with her words, but he saw her subtly brush her front pocket. "When would you like to go over it?"

Their eyes met for a moment and he instantly understood that there was no message for him.

"I'll take it in my quarters," he said, turning towards the passageway. "Bring me the message in about ten minutes."

* * *

The knock on the door woke him from his light sleep. Before he had even thought to answer her, the door creaked open, and Riza slipped in. She lit a lamp on the table and began to examine him.

He had managed to take off his cloak, but his wounds prevented him from going any further. Although she was behind him, he could tell she was staring, slowly taking in his slumped figure and blood stained clothes.

Wordlessly, she walked over and helped him to remove his shirt. The gash on his shoulder looked even worse than it felt. She moved away for a moment, returning with a rag and bowl of water. Slowly she began cleaning the wound.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" she asked softly.

He pulled off his gloves, holding up his cut hands. "Just this and a bad bruise on my abdomen."

A piece of cloth was produced from her pocket. On it was an embroidered alchemic array. Use of magic was illegal, punishable by death, but neither of them cared at the moment. She placed the cloth over his wounds and he activated it.

A soft blue glow filled the room. It was a trick they had picked up from their adventures in Xing. He let out a breath as the pain began to subside. Gingerly, he brought his hand up to trace his now healed shoulder. What was once a gaping wound, was now smooth skin. It would be sore for a few days, but nothing more.

They repeated the process for his hands and abdomen, until they were healed as well.

Riza reached for a clean rag and soaked it in water. He closed his eyes as she began to clean his face, back, and chest.

Once finished, he heard her move away and begin to rummage through his cabinets, searching for clean clothes. She placed them on his bed, before coming around to face him once more.

"Don't forget to change before you go to sleep," she said softly.

He opened his eyes.

She was crouched before him. Her face was soft, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. He stared directly into her eyes. Eyes as amber as the setting sun.

He looked away, eyes flashing to the photograph resting on his pillow.

She blinked slowly, suddenly painfully aware of the locket resting beneath her shirt.

As wordlessly as she came, she began to leave, moving towards the door.

"I'll send someone to wake you in a few hours. The navy will surely wish to speak to you."

She placed her hand on the doorknob.

"Riza," he called.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> The scene with the lantern was trying so hard to be dramatic, but in morse code it literally translates to:  
> Mustang: M E  
> Ship: K
> 
> Also looking for beta reader, so let me know if that interests you.


End file.
